


Poison

by SabrinaT



Series: Anarchy [1]
Category: Peaky Blinders (TV), Peaky Blinders RPF
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Complete, Derogatory Language, Explicit Language, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Not Beta Read, Not Canon Compliant, Other, Strong Female Characters
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-01
Updated: 2019-12-26
Packaged: 2021-02-26 00:00:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 18
Words: 21,843
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21634039
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SabrinaT/pseuds/SabrinaT
Summary: She was, on all accounts, the water drowning him, the asfixiation draining his lungs, the dirt weighing heavily on his chest; the daring passion in his veins, the grip on his fists, the guarantee of the blood rushing to his heart. She was everything, but, most of all, she was the poison killing him slowly.I'm @sabrinatonks on Tumblr if any of y'all are interested!
Relationships: Alfie Solomons/Original Character(s), Alfie Solomons/Original Female Character(s)
Series: Anarchy [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1567327
Comments: 8
Kudos: 55





	1. Arsenic

The sound of the jazz band, the lows and highs of it all, made the ground shake, as if ther was a monster under London city, ready to claim them all. It was the kind of night Londoners were getting used to, with snow coming fown from the sky, the temperature enough to make bones freeze and muscles tense. Of course Alfie would rather watch all of this happening from his bakery, the warmth of a fire shielding him from the reckless weather. 

But fuck, he didn't get to do any of that, did he? No. He had to brave the fucking weather, just to go see the poison maker. She had refused to see anyone else other than the "person in charge of the administration of the material", or whatever she had said in that strange voice that always sounded like she was whispering. Maybe she really was, maybe she had to hide what she was doing? Or maybe that was the voice she had been born with. Alfie, with his booming voice, his colourful vocabulary and uncommon sayings, always felt as if he was yelling at her when they spoke on the phone. It was bound to be just as bad when they met face to face. 

Come alone, she said, or better, whispered. So Alfie went in alone, leaving his driver and Ollie, his right hand man, outside the building. Fuck, it was cold. His knuckles protested loudly when he knocked on the door, his rings making a distinct noise on the thick wood. 

The door opened not even a second later, and a wave of warmth hit Alfie right on the face, neck and hands. Taking the absence of any form of life barring him from entering, Alfie entered the room, closing the door behind him, still without identifying whoever had opened the door, or even a slight human presence. 

"I thought you'd be taller" a sudden voice said, clear as day and behind him. A woman, no doubt.

"I thought you'd at least tell me why you forced me to come here, on this here snowy day, right?" he immediately replied, turning slowly toward her, his hand on his pocket, clutching his weapon. Sure, she had never done anything to his people who came and got the merchandise, but her insistence on him coming in person sounded slightly suspicious. 

And indeed there she was, holding a gun in front of her. her wrist slightly bent with the weight. It was one hell of a revolver, heavy and probably well used, given the rust on the sides. But Alfie wasn't worried about that, he was worried about the pristine condition of the barrel, which would surely deliver a shot just as well as his own piece of equipment. And behind the gun, the girl, the one he had bought certain quantities of certain materials from, at a fair, yet slightly inflationed prices. It wasn't that bad, he could afford it, he needed it, and she came highly recommended by some people he trusted. As of that moment, no one Alfie Solomons wanted dead failed to die under the influence of her special little secret recipes; more than that, her liquids, powders and potions never left one single trace. She was good at what she did, she was the best in London, and it was a supplier Alfie and his business could not afford to lose. All the others that had given him poison had failed at making it untraceable, and Alfie wanted, needed, and demanded untraceability. 

She too seemed entirely unremarkable, with dirty blonde hair, big, round, scared blue eyes, and full, pink lips. It wasn't make-up, Alfie thought, it was just the way she was. Of course she was pretty enough, he added to his inner monologue, pretty enough to earn a second job if she was a prostitute. But no, she wasn't any of that, was she? She made good money selling her deadly potions. So why was her dress ripped, and the room around them in a shocking state of disarray?

"It's not that cold. Besides, I wanted to talk to you in person. If it was an inconvenience, I am sorry. But it's a matter of life or death" she replied. 

"It's not that cold? It's fucking cold, I'll tell you that. In your little house here, right, it might be nice and cozy, but it's not outside. It's fucking freezing. I'm old, and this is going to fuck up my bones. If it's such an emergency, you should've said something over the telephone" Alfie replied, looking around, his finger still on the trigger. 

"I couldn't say nothing over the phone. I needed you here, to see what happened"

"You done made a mess of your house, that's what you needed to tell me so badly? Fuck, I'm not helping you with this shit..."

Without one more word, only an exhasperated sigh, the woman shook her head and kicked a small wooden table to the side. Whatever it was that Alfie had expected her to do, it was not that, nor was he expecting the sight she had unveiled by doing that. 

There were at least four bodies, laying motionless on the ground. Three men, one woman, in a variety of positions that could only be described as incredible. Legs, arms, heads, all tangled, forming impressive angles. The faces were grotesque, the eyes halfway out of the skulls, the tongues so swollen the mouth couldn't contain them. 

"What about you help me with that shit?" the woman asked, giving him a look of triumph and panic, all wrapped into one. 


	2. Strychnine

Long story short, the girl had her "studio" (that's what she called it, fuck knows why) booby trapped, so that when she was away, no intruder could come in and take her material. It was a strange sight to behold, a pile of bodies (which ended up being six) on the floor, with a blonde, blue-eyed girl standing over them, not even looking shocked at what she had done, but more scared for her safety. The fact that her trap had somehow killed six people brutally and slowly didn't matter to her. What did was the violation of her space, of her business. The posions and materials weren't even on that room, or on that floor for that matter, and she had made damn sure whoever entered without her permission did not take one step toward her laboratory (again, her words), without dying as a result. 

"So then I searched their pockets, to see if they had any identification, any reason to come in here and ransack my place. But no, they have nothing, other than a couple articles from the weekend papers" she told Alfie, handing him the pieces of paper. Alfie looked them over and laughed, making himself more comfortable on her small armchair. Before she told her story, she had offered a chair, and some tea, which Alfie had taken, sensing there was interest in whatever she had to say. 

"Hm... So these people enter your house, you kill them with some type of poison, and then you call me. Why?"

"You buy my poisons. So I know you're the kind of man who needs to kill. A baker, isn't it you call yourself? As I am just an academic, a chemist, I guess. I have never had any reason to doubt your organisation, mr. Solomons, and now I am asking for a favour in return of the ones I have provided you" the woman retorted, leaning forward, elbows on her knees, her pretty face on her hands. 

"Favours? You are very well paid for..."

"Oh, yes, no doubt. But no money in the world would pay for the death sentence I would receive if the police were to be made aware of my work."

That was an argument Alfie Solomons understood, and even agreed with. Sure, he too employed some methods to conceal his activity, and he had men in the area that could take care of the bodies in no time, restoring calm and conditions to this woman's work. The issue resided in the fact that someone clearly knew where she conducted her research and business. Again, he had an entire organisation at his disposal, and even a couple spare rooms in his... bakery. She could move all her things there, she could set up base in the safest place in London. He could have it done by morning, and he wouldn't have to lift a finger, or ask her to herself. Secrecy was something he knew well enough to grant that endeavour. Even more than that, having her working exxclusively for him would make damn sure the Italians, the fucking Shelbies, or anyone else, wouldn't grab her and use her services against him, gaining an upper hand. 

"Miss Ivinson, I have a proposal for you." Alfie said, leaning against the back of the chair, crossing his hands over his thigh. She followed all those movements carefully, as if studying him. "You are not safe here, and if you aren't safe, neither are your services. And I don't need to tell you how much I need your supplies for the conduction of my business. I propose you move into my own establishment, where everything will be provided for you, from your salary, to a laboratory, to a bedroom and everything you need to be comfortable and do your job in safety. The condition is..."

"Exclusivity. Deal." Ivy Ivinson replied, getting up from her own armchair and extending her hand to Alfie Solomons, who took it and shook it carefully. By morning, there was someone new living at the bakery, and the low rumble and bubbling of deadly liquids filled the air. 


	3. Hemlock

"Do we need to make sure you're not going to run away? Or sell us out?" Alfie said, crossing his ankles under his desk. Ivy Ivinson had been at his own establishment for five months, and only now had she started making demands. They started out normal, like getting to go out with a man by her side, to make sure no one was following her. Alfie himself had imposed that rule to his men, and Ivy had been safe every Sunday, when she had permission to go out, buy her supplies, look at dresses and hats. What she was not allowed to do, however, was talk to her family, or meet with friends. Letters would have to suffice, and the woman hadn't even said anything about it over the months she had been working for Alfie. But now she wanted to see her parents, who had been worried for her wellbeing. 

"I am not. You, of all people, should know I am in no position to harm you or your business. I depend on it as much as you do. I live here, you pay my salary, and provide me with protection. I just want to see my father and my mother. I haven't seen them in almost half a year..."

"For your own good, damn it!"Alfie replied, his fists coming down on the table, as he got up suddenly. The rage that filled him was slightly out of character, but his protective instincts had taken over. He had a fierce sense of protection for all his employees, and she was no different. Five months had been enough for her to prove her loyalty, despite what he was wiling to say to her face. Besides, she had filled the whole place with the scent of her potions and liquids, which somehow couldn't erase the smell of her own skin, slightly floral and delicate, unlike all the other smells in that place. She was different, she was beautiful, and Alfie himself had fallen for her femininity a bit, unable to help the way his eyes would linger on her for a bit too long whenever she passed by, or entered his office. He didn't deal with many women, that was true, so maybe the effect of a beautiful woman around his own personal space wasn't unlikely to cause these effects. 

"Don't you dare yell at me! I'm not one of your watchdogs! I gave up everything, every ounce of freedom I had, every relationship, every friend..." Ivy wanted to say so many things, but her voice eventually failed. Fighting back tears, she swallowed and clenched her fists on her side. Her blood rarely boiled, but this man had a way of talking to her that made her teeth grind and her mind to go blank. 

"You did it because you wanted to, though, innit? You did it for you, right? For your safety, to survive whoever knew where you lived" Alfie replied, feeling the first spasms running down his spine. His legs and arms were next, before the wave of brutal pain took over him. It was like his muscles and bones were on fire, only this time it was worse, much worse than ever before. 

"I need to maintain myself, I'm not just doing this because I'm... mr. Solomons? Mr. Solomons?" Ivy called out, seeing the look on the man's face. She had seen peope in pain many times before, and it was easy to tell he was going to collapse any given minute. Rushing to him, making him sit down, was much easier than she thought it would be, given the cheer volume of her employer. They had never been that close, and only now did she see how truly handsome he was, how human his eyes looked when he was vulnerable. 

"I'm fine, just fine, leave me be..."

"No, you're not. Come on, you need to lie down. I'm gonna call someone to help me, and we're getting you warm before I..."

"No. Ivy. No."

The shock of hearing him say her first name made her stop in her tracks as she was about to turn and run to find Ollie, or someone who was nearby and could help a man much bigger than her get to his room, or to any bed for that matter. But the way Alfie pleaded, the use of her name, made her realise he didn't want to show his pain to anyone else. She was there, she could help, she had some herbs which would numb the pain and help him recover, even sleep off the spasms. But none of that would happen in his office, where she knew anyone could come barging in. Ivy was a smart woman, she knew what signs of weakness would do to a business as dangerous as Alfie's. 

"Fine, so I won't call anyone in here, but you need to be strong and help me get you to your room. I won't let anyone see you like this, you have my word, but you need to help me" Ivy asked, her own voice cracking a bit. At that point, she failed to worry about touching her boss, the pain evident in his face, his eyes closed shut so tightly his cheeks were going red and white all at once. To her surprise, he nodded his head toward his belt, to a small key dangling from one of the belt loops on his trousers. Without thinking twice, she yanked it from him and looked around, trying to calculate the fastest route to the door. But just as she was about to pull Alfie in her direction, to get them to the door, he stopped her, and took a hesitant step in the opposite direction, toward the heavy mahogany book case that oversaw his working desk. Ivy walked with him, step after step, trying as hard as she could to not cave under the weight of Alfie's massive body. He finally got a hold of the bookcase, and, without a word, took her right hand in his and directed it to a small little opening on the wood, which anyone would mistake for a chip. But the tiny key entered it easily, and with a turn of her wrist, the bookcase clicked and became detached from the stone wall.

Ivy was so scared, her heart beating so fast, that she didn't hesitate, as if her head knew what to do out of instinct. Using all her strength, she pushed the piece of furniture to the side, revealing a pristine bedroom, with no windows, but fairly spacious, and incredibly clean and tidy. Gathering all her strength again, she helped Alfie to the bed, where he simply collapsed. Hurriedly throwing a random blanket over him, Ivy took the key, and ran out of the office, making sure to close the bookcase as she sped off into her own laboratory, and gathered everything she needed. The fear she felt was unlike anything she had experienced for the longest time, her heart beating out of synch, and her limbs going numb. Her biggest fear was that he would be dead once she made it back with the antidotes. 


	4. Snakeroot

Muscle spasms, muscle cramps, pain... 

She had seen it before, and she knew very well what would happen. Ivy counted her lucky stars at that moment, when she gathered the vials and boxes, vowing not to let history repeat itself under her watch. Her sister had died in that same manner, and it had taken less than thirty minutes for her soul to leave her body once the poison had come into contact with her bloodstream. It had been horrible to watch her in that much pain, and even worse to watch her eyes widening, pure black covering the once blue irises, her skin going white when she died, inbetween violent convulsions. 

Luckily, no one saw her running like a madwoman running through the bakey and dashing through the bottles of rum. Not knowing what else to do, she closed the door to Alfie's office, and locked it, before opening the bookcase, sliding it to the side and closing it back, hearing the reassuring click of a lock once it was back in its place. 

But something wasn't right. Alfie wasn't making a single sound, nor was she hearing him breathing. Not only that, but his eyes were closed, no sign of pain on his rough features. The panic Ivy felt heightened, as she felt her stomach rise into her throat, he rhands shaking, and her eyes filling up with water. Grabbing on to a sliver of hope, she took two steps and started shaking Alfie, tears streaming down her face, the array of medicines and antidotes flying off her pockets.

Suddenly, she found herself on the bed, her back pressed against the mattress, two strong hands around her neck, squeezing hard enough to bruise. And then, as quickly as it had happened, it stopped. Trying to catch her breath, and only managing a small and ragged few inhales, Ivy was greeted by the sight of the man who employed her, kneeling between her legs, looking as though death itself had tried to take him, mixed with undeniable guilt. 

"I am so sorry..."

"What the hell happened? What the fuck is all this? Are you alright, what the fuck..." Ivy whispered, unable to get her throat to work well enough to let her speak normally. 

"It happens some time, right, it's the arthritis" Afie replied, not moving a muscle, looking around the room, eyes resting on the mess Ivy had made with her things. "What is all this? Why the fuck would you shake me like that? How did you even get in here?" Alfie asked, looking confused at best. 

"I thought... you gave me the keys, you showed me how to get in here, I swear... I thought you had... I thought someone... I thought you were poisoned, these are antidotes... I..." she tried to explain, but words couldn't leave her mouth before she started crying, so hard she sobbed. "I swear... I..."

"You thought I had been poisoned? Are you shitting me? Is that a fucking joke?" Alfie asked, finally moving and sitting on the side of the bed. 

"My... my sister... my sister... she died... just like that; the cramps, the pain... she couldn't stand and I didn't know what to do at the time... and she... I thought the same thing happened to you" Ivy said, inbetween sobs. 

It was painful how much her body shook when she sobbed. It was without a doubt true, and even a man as suspicious as Alfie Solomons knew how honest people sounded and looked in time of such despair. Ivy had truçy wanted to help him, he could teel some of those antidotes were real, and even some of the other labeled herbs sounded familiar as counter measures to most common poisons. 

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I didn't know it looked like something else, I truly am sorry." he replied, raising his head to meet her eyes,s eeing how beautiful they looked through the tears. The tip of her nose was pink, and her chest rose and lowered with the crying. His heart, turned to stone long ago, used to shutting out any and every emotion, softened ever so slightly, and his hand reached for hers out of instinct. It was shocking to the both of them, so much so she topped sobbing and her tears stopped falling. 


	5. Oleander

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This gets slightly NSFW but nothing too shocking lol Trigger Warning for mild (very mild?) sexual content (?)

Ivy Ivinson knew very well what Alfie Solomons did with his life, how he made his money, and what made him tired when midnight came around. In turn, Alfie knew her routines, when she woke up and bathed, when she put on a nice dress and went to mass, or when she wore a simple outfit, with an apron on top, to work on her mixtures. They had spoken a couple of times a week at first, when she delivered what he asked for. As time wore on, they started conversing more, he even allowed himself to eat when she ate, at the same table even. It felt nice to have someone there, either in silence, or discussing topics that had nothing to do with work or with stupid nonsense women typically liked bothering others with. A lifetime ago, his family had made him court a girl who was not only obnoxious, but also obnoxiously ugly, with her strident laughter and ill-fitted dresses. With Ivy, he spoke of politics, of science, of the weather even. Fuck, he didn't say much at all, he asked questions and she answered, with a truly impressive knowledge of animals, from exotic lands Alfie never dreamed of seeing or visiting. She had books with pictures of them, or she drew them on random sheets of paper for him to see what she meant. He knew now where the raw materials for her mixes came from, and why she was so adamant on some of the suppliers. 

This, he thought, this was what made him take her hand and soothe her, trying to stop her from crying. It was something he didn't think he had in him, and, by the way she stared at his hand over hers, he could tell Ivy herself shared that opinion. But it certainly didn't seem to be displeasing to her, given that she didn't move. 

"Are you bettter, then?" Ivy ended up asking, allowing his hand to stay on hers, and breathing easier. 

"Well, I feel as if a train ran me over, but apart from that... I shouldn't have gotten up so fast, that's all" Alfie replied to her, trying very hard not to focus his attention on the way her skin felt under his calloused hand. He had never cared much about that, about the way he looked, about the way he presented himself. But now, coming int contact with such soft and pale skin, he started feeling as if he had no right to sit on the same bed as Ivy Ivinson, of delicate beauty and quick wits. 

"I could help, you know? My dad is a war veteran too, and he has arthritis. I have a couple mixes that could help out with the pain and the aftermath of the spasms" Ivy stated, crossing her legs at the ankle, her arms supporting her weight behind her back. 

It was a worrk dress and apron day, Alfie thought to himself, as two small ankles and the smalles bit of calve peaked from under her dress when she shifted positions. From here he was sitting, he could make out the contours of her shins, and the swift arch of her feet under the simple work flats she wore. More than that, she seemed to have forgone stockings, as the warm interiors of the bakery didn't warrant those outfit additions. The apron was another point of fascination for him, as it was of simple burlap, rough and with burn marks tainting the brown fabric. Hee paid her well enough to afford fancier clothes, but when she was working, everything was cotton, more often that not died some simple colour like mustard yellow or navy. This one was astel though, a shade of yellow he started to associate with her. 

"I'll be fine, no need for any of that" Alfie retorted, looking away from her ankles as soon as he realized he had been staring, almost long enough to be transfixed by something so simple. He vaguely remembered wandering over to her apron, and then to her neck, before going back down to her legs, but had it been noticeable?

It had. Ivy had very good vision, as necessary for someone who worked with something as finnicky as poison. She knew her quantities, but she also knew when a man was looking at her the way Alfie Solomons was at the moment. Of course she knew better than to become involved with a mobster, and a dangerous one at that. Likewise, she knew better than to deny herself the things she wanted when they were within her reach. After five months of home arrest, she had become increasingly impatient, dreaming of the few men she had in the past, imagining what she would be able to do if one of them agreed to come to the bakery, and do to her what she had taught them. Was it even that bad to take advantage of a man who was clearly recovering from very intense pain? God would understand, even if he was, in fact, a Jew. Who on earth had to know if anything happened between them? Her offer had been innocent, but if he were to accept, things would be different. 

It wasn't about feelings, they both thought, each shielded from the other by lowered eyes, and hesitant words. It was more about need, desire, a human impulse to feel pleasure, closeness, intimacy... That was what they would tell themselves, pretending their hours of talking hadn't affirmed that they were different, but equal, that they were equally bad, but justifiably so. That when she spoke, he listened; and when he spoke, she listened. That when he wanted silence, he allowed her presence; and when she wanted to believe she was human, he matched her topics, showing her she still existed in this world. 

"I've everything I need right here, and it wouldn't take that long. I mean, it would put you to sleep pretty quickly too" Ivy stated, getting up and gathering her vials and boxes, taking her time picking up each one, and making sure they weren't damaged. "I can show you everything, and pictures in books too, so you can make sure I am not trying to harm you. No need to ingestt anything, I would just make a kind of paste and apply it to your spine, which is where the pain comes from".

"You wouldn't dare poison me, I know that much, right? Not to mention, you'd need to know where to look to get out of here, the same key won't work. And since you locked the damn thing, if I die, you're stuck here" Alfie replied, trying not to laugh. He didn't remember the last time he had wanted to laugh, but there it was; the ability to smile, the humour to make little jokes. However, Ivy hadn't realised it was a joke, and as she rose back to her feet, she looked sraight into his eyes, looking hurt almost. 

"I could have killed you a thousand times before if I wanted to. But I don't. I never did. I wouldn't kill you just because you won't let me outside as much as I would like to. I know it's what's best for me, and I know I can't contact anyone in my family directly. Someone knew where I lived, and you were fair enough to take me in and make sure I was protected. I wouldn't kill you, not after I saw my sister being murdered in cold blood. Making poison for your enemies to die is one thing; being the one to administer death is something completely different. I know who your enemies are, and they're bad men who kill for no reason. And I believe I know you well enough to know you don't kill for the hell of it." Ivy said, her fists clenched once more. 

"It is what's best for you..."

"I'm not finished. Now, I am trying to return the favour even in the tiniest way, trying to help ease your pain, help you live a bit better, without all the spasms. I know I can, I've done it before. Please, let me pay you back, even if it's nothing compared to saving your life" Ivy said, not able to stop talking. She didn't care if he had anything to say; she was almost furious at him for suggesting she wanted to kill him. 

Compared to those words, Alfie's argument of being perfectly fine and not needing anything was weak at best. Even if it didn't work, it would be worth it just to appease Ivy, who genuinely seemed shocked by his sad attempt at lightening the mood. 

"Fine, fine, that's fine, I believe you." Alfie simply replied, throwing his hands up in defeat. 

"Great, that's great news. Now take off your clothes, please" she replied, hands on her hips, and a stubborn look on her face. 

"I'm sorry, what did you just say?"

"I'm asking you to take off your clothes. So I can put the plants on your spine" Ivy repeated, biting the inside of her cheek so she wouldn't start laughing at the utter confusion in Alfie's face. Whereas she was a modern woman who had worked at a hospital for war veterans and seen men in all states of undress, she had a feeling Alfie Solomons wasn't as liberal as she was, and being in any state of nakedeness in front of a woman, in a locked room, wasn't exactly how he planned to spend his afternoon. "Come on, it's like going to the doctor. I won't look anywhere other than where I need to work on" 

"I... What clothes exactly?" Alfie asked, swallowing hard enough for Ivy to notice. He wasn't exactly in a position to be shy, but he couldn't help but feel as if undressing in front of her, a woman, and not just any woman, not a prostitute, but the woman who had feared for his life, and whose company he had grown to adore and esteem over anything else, even if his conscience tried to deny it at any cost. Fuck, even with prostitutes he didn't take his clothes off, he sort of just... pushed things aside and had his way with them. Even counting that, it had been months, no, years...

"Are you listening to me?" her voice snapped him out of his stream of thoughts, forcing him to focus on her. "I said I need access to your back. It should be enough" Ivy said a bit louder, already mashing herbs and liquids together in a small bowl she took from her apron's pocket. 

"You know what, fine, I honestly don't even care right now. Fuck my life, this is is anything but proper, innit? You and your flowers and your teas and your... Fuck it, I've nothing to lose, do I?" Alfie muttered to himself, trying very hard to ignore the way Ivy's hair bounced against her back while she mashed the mixtured together vigorously. As promised, she had her back turned to him, maintaining as little decency as was possible. Other than that, everything was fine, everything was just perfect, wasn't it, he asked himself, taking off his clothes and throwing them to the side, without even folding them. 

"You done cursing your existence, or should I wait a bit longer?" Ivy asked, still not looking at what was happening, as much as she wanted to. The mix was already more than well done, but she kept fussing with it, to keep herself busy. 

"You know what, fuck off, you're a right brat, I am entitled to bitch all I want, right, I'm standing here in the cold while a witch prepares some sort of thing to put on me" Alfie replied, making Ivy finally laugh out loud. 

"Oh, and I'm the brat? This is going to make you feel as if angels just personally rid you of every single bit of that shitty arthritis. To be honest, I shouldn't even be telling you this, I'm wasting my time trying to convince you" she replied, shrugging slightly and biting the inside of her lower lip. "Can I turn around now?"

"Who the fuck am I to keep your back turned" Alfie half asked, half stated, crossing his arms in front of his chest. 

Counting down from three, and reassuring to herself this was purely medical, Ivy turned around and tilted her head, wondering exactly how the man in front of her morphed from a pile of clothes to a well-built individual, with strong arms and a remarkable chest.

"So what you're gonna do is lay down... on your stomach..." she said, punctuating each other with a firm hand on his upper arm, making him do as he was told. Obbeying orders was something else Alfie hadn't done in a long time, but then again neither had Ivy grown acostumed to tell others what to do. When she was able to get him to lay down as she wanted, still muttering some nonsensical words to himself, face buried in a pillow, another deep breath was warranted before she climbed into the bed and perched herself on his back, one leg to each side. 

"What the actual fuck is going on..."Alfie started, but wasn't even able to finish the sentence before Ivy shoved his head back into the pillow, making his protests irrelevant. 

"Shut up. It'll be over before you know it"

But fuck, Alfie sure as hell did not want any of it to be over, and Ivy didn't either. The warmth of her body on him was threatening to drive him to commit some insane act of passion, such as picking that girl up and off his back, and burying himself so deep inside her she saw stars. But no, he couldn't do it, even if he felt everything, her every movement on the skin of his back, the soft brushing of the inside of her thighs against his ribs, and some sort of silky, humid fabric against the small of his back. For her, the sensations were even more explicit, as she commanded the way the friction felt inbetween her thighs. 

Little by little, Ivy massaged the mixture onto his back, until the visible ridges of his spine were covered in the green paste. Even Alfie's protests died down, faced with how amazing it all felt, how amazing she felt, how stupid it was to resist what was shaping up to be inevitable. 


	6. Wolfsbane

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Y'all, here we are. NSFW, Trigger Warning, etc.  
> I'm sorry kinda not really idk lol

Theory became practice by her own doing. Under all of the attempts to remain calm and collected, neither Ivy nor Alfie ever doubted this is how it would all come to this. To her hands wandering, pressing, running down his skin, going down to caress his ribs with flutter-like touches that ignited a fire hotter than the hell set alight by their partnership. Throwing it all to the wind, it was there and then that Alfie decided he wasn't going to wait another second to have her like he wanted her. 

In a move swifter than she reckoned he was capabble of, Alfie turned around, his spine cracking with the effort, and took her into his arms, dragging her down to him so he could kiss her. Ivy didn't even flinch, waiting as she was for him to do something, for him to respond to the provocation she inflicted with her hands. 

"I'm going to need you to tell me this is fine with you" Alfie stated, his hand still on the back of her neck, ready to go back to kissing those incredible lips as soon as she gave verbal confirmation and consent to what was about to happen. 

"Yes, yes, a million times yes, please just fuck me" Ivy heard herself replying, cruder than she intended it to be, but confirmation nonetheless. 

It was confirmation Alfie had asked for, and confirmation he had gotten. Trapping her under his own body, wrapping her legs around him, exposing her thighs to his touch was easy enough, but it was harder to get rid of her dress without stopping the kiss they shared, none of them wanting it to end. Again, it was Ivy who took the initiative, breaking the kiss for mere instants, enough to get rid of her apron and dress. This closeness was much better, and a sigh left her lips when their skins were fully in contact. 

"Get rid of this" Ivy gasped, as she came up for air, while Alfie directed his attention to the pulse point on her neck. She didn't really know why the hell she had voiced her action, but it had come out when he moved from her mouth. Somehow, Alfie understood what she wanted him to do, and went to work on his pants, and all other items of clothing which were on her way. 

Seeing Alfie, the man she was used to seeing wearing layers upon layers of thick wool, getting undressed with that amount of urgency, led Ivy to sigh and bite her lip. Of course he was a sight to behold, of course he was, the blushed cheeks, the muscular arms moving, untying, sliding fabric off his body. Watching him standing up to take off shoes and pants was even better, and now that it was agreed that they would be each others', Ivy didn't need to be shy, she could stare all she wanted. 

Alfie himself didn't even notice he was being stared at, as busy as he was fumbling with his garments. Fuck, she was beautiful, he said, stealing a glance as he threw his boots across the room carelessly. Under the apron and billowy yellow dress, the blessed beauty that was Ivy Ivinson wore a slip of the purest silk, yellow to match her dress, and as soft as her skin. It was a perfect metaphor for her, as well, the simple exterior, with a luxurious inner monologue. Fuck me, he thought, down to his underpants. 

"Listen here..." Alfie started, but she stopped him right in his tracks, getting up, pulling his neck down to her and kissing him yet again, her slender, skilled hands running down his chest and to the small of his back. 

"Hm?" Ivy asked, breaking the kiss only when she was a bit more satisfied. Her lips were greedy, but by fuck so were his, she tasted like honey and lavender, and smelled of roses and burnt sugar. Awaiting for his answer, she let her mouth wander to his neck, down to his chest, every bit of skin she could reach, and ecery tattoo that marked Alfie's body. 

"I can't do this the way I want to" Alfie stated, making her look up into his eyes, her brows furrowed in thought. 

"What do you even mean by that?" Ivy replied, stopping what she was doing and directing all her attention to what he was saying. "I don't..."

"Lay you down on that bed and making you mine until that bed breaks? I can't do that, right, I'm not strong enough to do that and I'm not sure I want to do that to you" he retorted, with a hint of sadness Ivy had never heard before coming from that magnificent man. 

"I'm tougher than I look. But as for you not being able to do to me what your heart desires, well... let's just say there are ways, and I pride myself in knowing them well enough" 

And there it was, that whisper again. The deepening of her voice, the carefulness of the words, the slight twinkle of mischief in her eyes... Ivy had even more books than Alfie himself, and he had a library to rival that of royals. Of course she would know about these things, she knew about all other matters relating to the natural world, to nature, even human nature for that matter. 

"Show me, then" he asked, leaning down to capture her mouth in his again, basking in the feeling of her fingers reaching for the hem of her slip, the fabric the only thing left between them both. 


	7. Foxglove

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Still NSFW/Trigger Warning!

The yellow silk slid to the floor rather like a snake, undressing its owner and exposing her to the colder air of the room. There were some things able to take a man's breath away, Alfie thought to himself as he accompanied the journey of the slip, but none as deadly as the sight of a desired woman, one the man in question had wanted for so long, without even knowing it. Seeing Ivy in that state was as blissful as it was exciting, making him forget all about his tight muscles and occasional spasm that ran through his tense body. The little minx even had the nerve to smile through bitten lips, looking up at him as she let her hair down, a waterfall of gold covering her shoulders, down to her breasts, and even longer at the back, as Alfie could see some strands peaking through the small space between her arms and curves. 

"Are you going to let me be the indecent one, or... are you going to join me?" she asked, tilting her head to the side, eyeing his sizable erection, still covered by some stupid underpants. Adding insult to injury, she was bold enough to run a pointer finger along the hemline, for the pure pleasure of seeing him break into goosebumps. Ivy, as it turned out, only looked like an angel, given that she was way bolder than he was, more daring than him. She had touched him whenever and wherever she desired, while he couldn't seem to get past her neck. 

"Hm. I guess..." but Alfie's words were cut short, as she managed to surprise him by taking his arm, pulling him toward her, and then making him sit on the edge of the bed. It had been the smoothest movement he had ever felt, almost as if he had done it out of his own volition. She had a way of handling him, of knowing what it was that he wanted, and making it seem like she was the one behind it. 

But no, it couldn't continue, it wasn't supposed to be like that. Alfie had asked for consent, damn it, and she had said she wanted him to do to her whatever it was he wanted. And by fuck he would do to Ivy Ivinson exactly what he wished. It was his turn to stop her movement as she prepared to climb onto his lap, and, as she stopped, her chest at his eye level, Alfie vowed to not allow any of them to move from that room before Ivy couldn't speak, couldn't walk, and was so entirely satisfied that she would refuse his touch as too much. 

"There" Alfie stated, running his hands around her back, steadying her on her feet, directly in front of him. Forcing himself to focus on one thing at the time, he kissed her lips again, delighted by the way her hair tickled his face as she bent over. Then, as he was once more satisfied by the taste of her mouth, he decided to move down to her neck, finding the places where her blood seemed to come to the surface of her porcelain skin. Then, there were her collarbones, a pair of sculptures that had peaked through the dresses before, and that Alfie hadn't known to admire until now. The dip above the junction seemed to please her, her knees weakening slightly, giving him an excuse to embrace her, steadying her body once more. 

"Stop teasing me, god damn it" she hissed, trying to move, but not being able to, surrounded by his strong arms, and filled with the nervous tension caused by how close he was, how good his mouth felt, his tongue, even the simple scent of wood and musk emanating from his pores. 

"As if you were in a position to make any demands, mate" he replied, before doing exactly what he knew she wanted: wrapping his lips around her nipple, making her hiss, then sigh, then let out the sweetest little moan. 

"I'm not... I'm not your mate, mate" she retorted, struggling to speak, breathe and even see straight. His hands were now on the small of her back, and now lower, and lower... until he simply grabbed two handfuls of her backside, pulling her to his mouth with such vigor her feet left the ground for a couple of seconds. 

"My apologies, miss" Alfie laughed, making waves of vibration run through her body, from her breasts to her thighs. 

"You are fucking impossible" Ivy whispered, moaning again, letting her hands run through his hair, feeling it softer than she would have expected. Shit, he was weird, she thought to herself, a fucking gangster with lips able to render her speechless, and the strength of a thousand men to lift her up off the ground. 

Alfie didn't deign to give that statement an answer, nor did he want to detach himself from the girl for any amount of time. She liked his mouth where it was, but a new issue started to arise, derived from the way her legs were shaking. Truth be told, and truth was all they had in that moment, Alfie had never reall been with a woman who was with him because she wanted to. It wasn't like he had forced anyone to anything, he was not that kind of man; it was more a matter of war prostitutes, and then London prostitutes, and then shocking loneliness. He didn't know how a woman reacted to pure and honest desire, and seeing it now was starting to make him believe it was real between the two of them, that there was more to them fucking. Ivy didn't just want a fuck, she wanted a fuck with Alfie himself, he realised, suddenly and unexpectedly. That far, he had only gotten to the conclusion that he wanted Ivy, and no other woman would do. He wasn't just satisfying a physical need, he was satisfying a physical, spiritual, intelectual need for that woman right there, the poison maker. Knowing now it was mutual, that she wanted him as much as he wanted her, made a world of a difference, and dictated the course of everything. 

His arthritis didn't really matter anymore, and neither did her small frame and fragile structure. At that moment, Alfie knew what had to be done, and it had to be completed right that instant. Ivy needed to be laid down, her legs needed to be spread open as wide as she could, and his face had to be buried in her until she woke up the entire fucking neighbourhood screaming his fucking name. 

And so it was done, Ivy was picked up, slammed onto the mattress, her legs spread so far her knees touced the sheets, and Alfie took it upon himself to make her test the limits of her vocal chords. As it would turn out, she didn't really need much more than a swipe of his tongue to quiver, and once the appropriate spots were located, with a generous help from her seemingly experienced hands, a couple of minutes made Ivy scream loud enough to be heard in fucking Birmingham. 

After that, Alfie would have been a happy man, just seeing the way little beads of sweat formed over the paleness of her skin, her chest rising and falling shockingly fast. But no, the poison maker was still not happy, and made her intentions clear with a simple order:

"Lay down"

And by fuck, Alfie was not about to disobey, nor was he about to say no to anything she ordered. So she had him where she wanted him, and naked nonetheless, indecently hard and with fists clenched, mourning the loss of touch with her skin. Her eyes were fixed on him as she moved, carefully, slowly, as if she didn't want to burden his tired body with her weight. A thousand thoughts screamed inside Alfie's head to tell her it was fine, that he could take her weight, that it wasn't that bad, but an equal number of reasons rose to the occasion, telling him to let her be, she knew what she was doing. 

Their eyes were fixed on each other, not moving an inch, and Alfie didn't even realise what had happened at first, when she balanced herself on his chest, one elegant thigh to each side of his torso. It was only when she bit her lip hard enough to draw blood that he understood she had managed to get him inside her, so softly and easily it went undetected at first, as concerned as he was with her wellbeing, with her face, with her body, with making sure she was not only safe, but also finding it all as pleasurable as he did. 

"Jesus fuck" she let out, her lips red and wet with saliva and blood. If her previous orgasm had been a sight to behold, this was much, much better, Alfie though to himself, as she watched her move carefully, looking straight at him. There was nothing, no pain, no cramps, no nothing, other than genuine and pure bliss. The pleasure, the blood rush, it all came after he had drank her in, her blue eyes, her curves, her movements. It was beyond this world, it was transcendent, tantalizing, incredible... and fuck, it felt so good, so much better than ever before, she was so soft and so warm, so wet and so beautiful...

Lying down didn't work, and when it was all said and done, his arms around her, their mouths tangled in a kiss deep enough to rival the ocean, chest to chest, heartbeat to heartbeat, Alfie Solomons found himself saying the words he never wanted to say:

"I love you"

And at that moment, knowing well enough the truth was there for them both to see, Ivy Ivinson found herself replying in kind, as he filled her desperately, completely, without a doubt and without hesitation:

"And I love you"


	8. Angel's Trumpet

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Still mild sexual content!!!!

Laying down, the sweat beads covering both their bodies, was almost a religious experience. While Ivy thought about how she shouldn't have waited as long as she did, Alfie remembered every little moment, every detail, as his fingers ran lazily down her spine. She was clealry the most sane out of the two, the one who was still thinking, due to the fact that it was her idea to cover them with a spare blanket. The cold night air was kept at bay by the thick walls, but even so, as their heart rates returned to normal and their temperature did the same, it was uncomfortable to be uncovered.

"That tickles" Ivy said, her voice waking him up for his reverie. Alfie himself was so comfortable he thought twice before opening his mouth, concerned it would break their precious bubble. What if he said the wrong thing, what if he made her uncomfortable, or what if she didn't want to be there anymore? And for fuck's sake, he never had those kinds of issues, he was never one to wonder before speaking; what kind of fucking spell was he under, what had happened for him to feel this way with her? He would suspect the usage of love potions if he didn't know any better, and if she hadn't told him such things did not exist.

"Sorry, love" Alfie decided to say, applying a bit more pressure to his fingers, but not stopping the prospection of her spine. Ivy responded by snuggling more into him, her cheek rubbing against his chest in the most amazing way. Fuck, she was perfect, from her form beneath the blanket, to her content little smirk. It was the same smirk Ivy had on her face when she made him come undone with nothing but her mouth. In fact, and in keeping her promise, Alfie had barely moved, but yet Ivy had given and gotten pleasure as if they had tried everything and anything. Of course she was skilled, and perhaps experienced, apart from being peculiar for a woman her age, when intercourse was something meant to produce offspring, not necessarily pleasurable. 

"Hey. Are you feeling better?" Ivy asked, lifting her eyes up to Alfie's, meeting his with extraordinary kindness and softness.

"I'm feeling much better, love. Much, much better" Alfie replied with a loud sigh, arms tightening around Ivy's body. "Are you alright?"

"Yeah, I'm great. Did you mean it?"

"Meant what?" he asked, letting his palm run down to her backside. "Was I acting? That what you mean?"

"Oh, fuck off. You said you loved me. I want to know if you really do love me, or if some sort of spell binded you due to the obvious fact you were balls deep inside me" Ivy replied, treating the whole matter as if they were discussing whether to get up for dinner, or go see a show.

"Was I really? Can't seem to remember being under any sort of spell, but I do remember being balls deep inside you. Multiple times if I recall correctly. Here's the deal, right? I had no idea I could even feel that shit. I still don't know where the fuck it came from. But as far as I know, and as far as I can tell from how much I've enjoyed these last few hours, right... I think I might. As long as you want me to, and as long as you do too" Alfie said, weighing his words carefully.

"Hm. I'll take it. I might feel the same too" Ivy replied, giving him a contented sigh that made his heart beat faster.


	9. Honeybush

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> End of TW/NSFW!  
> Crude language still applies though, but hey it's marked mature so there's that right?  
> Thanks for getting this far with me, y'all!

Interestingly enough, it was the godamned Shelbies who came to interrupt Alfie Solomons and his daydreams regarding a stiff whisky with no ice, served in one of those glasses he asked the cook to keep hidden, and Ivy Ivinson perched upon his lap, kissing his neck, smelling faintly of lavender and parsley. They were saying something about needing to off some Italian, and that was fair enough, Alfie was in agreement that Italians should die, the whole fucking lot of them. Why was actually beyond him, his thoughts drifting off into the hope of a fire, a glass of alcohol, and a handful of the poison maker.

"Oi! You listening to anything we say?" Thomas Shelby yelled, banging his fist on the table hard enough to wake up the dead.

"Settle the fuck down, mate. I'm following you. You need to kill a fucking Italian, which is honestly deserving of all my support, right? Now, will you please fuck off, unless you've something else you need to say?" Alfie replied, looking at the visitor through his lenses. Fuck, Thomas looked old, and so did his brother, Arthur or whatever his fucking name was.

"I want the contact of that poison brewer you use" the Birmingham native stated, and that made Alfie pay a bit more attention. So the motherfuckers were done using blades and brute force, eh? Interesting, very interesting.

"You trying to be subtle, mate? Bit too late for that, innit?" Alfie laughed, trying to play it off, trying to remain calm, even if the mere thought of Ivy coming into contact with these men made his skin crawl with something too akin to fear.

"I want the contact of the fucking potion brewer and I want it right now, Solomons, or so help me..."

"You need to calm down and settle down, old boy. Yelling like that won't get you shit..." Alfie started, but the sudden opening of the door stopped him right in his tracks.

_Parsley and lavender._

_Fuck._

"Good evening, gentlemen. How can I be of assistance?" Ivy herself asked, head tilted to one side, hands on her waist, her hair tied up into what was a sad attempt at a bun, her apron stained with some kind of bright green viscosity. 

"Iv... ms. Ivinson, this is a business meeting, you need to..." Alfie went to start again, but she raised her hand, palm turned to her lover, making him stop whatever he was going to say.

"I asked a question to our visitors. How may I be of assistance?" Ivy repeated, trapping her tongue between her teeth.

"Well darling, you can start by fetching some rum, will you? And then, mr. Solomons' diary, so we can make an appointment with one of his... suppliers" Tommy said, turning to her, raised eyebrows, looking at the woman top to bottom, and deeming her worth of a fuck, just to spite Alfie Solomons and his veiled refusal to give them the contact right off the bat.

"Listen here, I refuse to let you speak to her like that..."

Again, Alfie trying to defend her. Ivy hadn't been born yesterday, she had heard the conversation from the other side of the door, she knew what the Shelbies wanted, and she knew why Alfie didn't want to give it to them. He was scared, he didn't want to involve her in any of that mess. But fuck, she was the one making the material which caused many messes, and she was enough of her own human being to make choices for herself.

"Oh, I see, you his little whore, sweetheart? You fucking him? Does he pay you nearly enough to do that? 'Cause I would pay for you handsomely, and would be twice the man..." Arthur started, but couldn't finish the sentence, or his path toward her, before she took his arm and injected something into his bloodstream that made him unable to move a muscle.

"He'll be dead in three minutes. State your business, and watch your mouth" Ivy simply said, throwing the dormant men onto the ground and looking straight into Tommy Shelby's eyes.

"Well, when you put it like that... I need someone dead, and I need it to be done fast and with discretion. No trace, no side effects, nothing. Like he died in his sleep" Tommy replied, looking at his brother on the floor, who didn't seem like he was breathing.

"How much?" she asked, peaking into her apron pocket.

"How do 500 quid sound?" Shelby replied, showing her a stack of bills.

"Fine. Here." Ivy handed him the small vial, and a needle to go with it. Then, and as promised, she busied herself sticking a third needle into Arthur's neck, allowing him to breathe deeply and regain the use of his limbs. "You know where to find me if you need me, but please don't ever treat a woman like she's only a piece of meat to stick your cock in. You're just a man, and you need to know that not all women would kill and die for a fuck with you. Pleasure doing business with you, mr. and mr. Shelby" she added, before turning her back and returning to her laboratory, where the plants didn't talk to her that way, and where the materials were never unkind. She hadn't even sold her finest poison, but those 500 pounds would be put to much better use than the one Tommy Shelby spent them on. 

* * *

"The bitch killed me! She fucking killed me, Tommy..."

"She did not, calm the fuck down, brother. Well, mr. Solomons, now that I know the kind of company you keep, I will be sure to visit you more often. It was a good call to keep her close to you" Tommy said, tucking the glass vial and the needle onto his coat's inside pocket.

"Do me a favour, mate, and try not to do that, eh? And keep this to your fucking self. She's here for her own protection, and there are fucking good reasons for that, right? Don't make me have to take other measures" Alfie replied, getting up off his chair and matching Tommy Shelby's height and intensity. Like fuck he was going to let anyone harm a single hair on her head.

"We'll be in touch. Keep the fucking potion-brewing witch under constant surveillance" Tommy stated, before turning his back and going out the door. It was only when Ollie assured his master that they were gone that Alfie allowed himself to smack the table with his fists even harder than Tommy had, his fury causing his muscles to tighten. How dare they, how fucking dare they, fucking Birmingham rats talking to Ivy like that, how fucking...

"Sir? Dinner is ready. Where do you wish to eat?" Ollie asked, peaking through the slightly open door. He did not, and would not, put himself within reach when Alfie Solomons was that angry. He wasn't a violent, or passionate man, but when he was angry, it was a dangerous and biblical thing to behold.

"Here. I'll eat here. Have you eaten? Go home. You worked very hard today, just go home to your family and rest, mate." Alfie ended up saying, his features softening up slightly as he looked at his right-hand man.

"Thank you, sir" Ollie replied, closing the door behind him, and exiting the building, being careful enough to check all the locks and locking the front door before heading home.

* * *

"Before you say anything, please remember I am not your property, and that I have free will as long as..."

"I wasn't going to say anything, love"

As per usual, Ivy had taken her plate of food down to Alfie's office, and sat across from him eating her dinner, while he did the same. It was normal, pleasant, even homey and sweet, in a way.

"I heard what they wanted, and I decided I wanted to help them do what they needed. I didn't do it to spite you, and I don't think it was reckless. I sold to others before you brought me here, them included; they just didn't know it was me. Not to mention, we will hear about an Italian mobster dying, and can use their purchase against them if they threaten to sell me out" Ivy stated, as if she was recounting a novel she had read.

"I know, love" Alfie retorted, focusing on her for a second before returning to her food.

"Oi. What is it with you? Not to be..."

"The way they fucking talked to you, I came this close to shooting the two of them" he said, antecipating the questions she would be asking, knowing she would catch on to it sooner or later, and not wanting that weight to be inside his chest for a minute more. If he talked about it, he would be angry all over again, and want to kill the Shelbies; but if he didn't say anything he would explode and have them killed before morning.

"Oh, that. I made them pay for it, I think; the next time they meet a woman they'll think twice before trying to get her bent over furniture and fucked for a bit of cash" Ivy shrugged, as if none of that was of importance; as if teaching two men a lesson under the threat of killing one of them was something she did on the daily.

"Fair enough, love. I think you did teach them a lesson. And right you were in doing so." Alfie ended up saying, admitting to himself it was unlikely that the Shelbies were to treat other women with respect unless they managed to poison them five minutes after meeting them. But it was noble to try, he gave her that. "You have a grudge against Italians? That why you wanted to do business with those Romani bastards?"

"Hm. What would happen if someone were to kill Ollie? He's like a brother to you, right?" Ivy asked, chewing a bit of bread. Upon receiving a nod in return, she carefully swallowed, and looked Alfie straight in the eye. "One of them killed my sister."

Fuck, the way she said it made the hairs on the back of Alfie's neck stand up. And suddenly, it all made sense.


	10. Ricin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> From here on out there will be sporadic mature content so please don't go on if that's not your vibe! Also I will only note NSFW/TW when the content is a bit more explicit.  
> Thanks!

It was not unusual to find them both like that, lying side to side, spent, completely exhausted, unable to move a muscle. Hours upon hours of the night spent practising, trying, experimenting, occasionally wondering if there was even anything else, if they hadn't sped off through every single position they could both manage.

Again and again, time after time, he had heard her moaning, and it was still like the very first, it was still as shocking and arousing as it had been then. For an old man, and an old man he was, Alfie Solomons could still make that woman scream, could still make her back arch. Under her instructions, he became less crippled by his wounds and scars, to the point when they were almost laughable. Fuck, he sure as all hell wouldn't let a bad knee stop him from kneeling as best as he could in front of her, her leg over his shoulder, his mouth going to work dutifully.

Same thing applied to when she came to his office, either when to eat or just to deliver some product, and he felt his whole body twitch at the sight of her. They had a little system in place, of tacit consent: if she came in with her hair swept aside, she would have the time and the desire to spend it with him; likewise, if he kept his glasses on when she entered, that meant business, and business only. An arrangement, by some definitions, but also more than just that. He knew she didn't have anyone else, and it was beyond obvious he didn't either. The feelings they had for each other, whatever their nature, bonded them in accidental faithfulness.

Then there were the times both signs were mutual.

"Oh my god, oh my god..." Ivy would gasp, her hands grasping the opposite side of the desk, her forehead pressing down on some random papers. "Jesus Christ, oh my god..." she would inevitably add, making Alfie almost die of satisfaction. Damn it, the simple thought of her going to church right after that, with her dress a mess at the hands of a Jew...

"Com'ere" Alfie said without exception, grabbing her by the waist, lifting her up in his arms and bringing her back on to his chest. "You go and tell God I did this, right? You go to your church and think about this right here when they read the Bible".

It would simply be enough, too much for her, too much for him, and maybe too much for any higher power. His sight blacked out, his knees weakened and everything disappeared, except for her, Ivy, his Ivy, Ivy, the only soul he could fathom loving. And again, as all the times before, she would be panting, a smile splattered across her gorgeous face, her hair a mess, her dress wrinkled, pink cheeks and thighs a mess.

* * *

_Ms. Ivinson:_

_I hope this finds you well. Our business transaction proved most successful, and I hope to repeat it, should the need arise._

_Sincerely,_

_Thomas Shelby_

"He honestly sent you that? After the shit him and his brother pulled? He's out of his mind, mate. He truly is, it's shocking" Alfie let out, eating his lunch at his desk, as always. 

"One could argue I am the one who pulled some shit on him and his brother" Ivy replied, stabbing a roast potato with her fork and observing it carefully before taking a bite.

"Speaking of pulling some shit. Say the words. I will go after every single Italian in this city and bring you their heads covered in gold" Alfie said, leaning forward, his voice lowering in antecipation. He saw the way her irises reacted to that suggestion, a mix of joy and grief, one he wanted o purge of all sadness, making her queen of the world.

"Alfie..."

"Please, love. Your sister..."

"Rosary wouldn't want anyone to die just for vengeance. She was killed by accident. when I sold the damn thing to the Shelbies I wasn't thinking, I just... In that moment I didn't even..." Ivy said, her eyes welling up with tears. Alfie had never seen her that sad, let alone cry. It was his fault, he had done that, simply because he couldn't keep his mouth shut. On a whim, Alfie got up off his chair, forgetting about the pain, about the sudden cramp on his calve, and rushed to her side, wrapping his arms around her.

"I'm sorry, pet. I'm sorry, I shouldn't have said anything, should I? Forget I ever said anything, let's eat and then..."

"I want that. God, I want that so bad. But then it's like she's right here next to me, telling me she would never consent to anything of the sort, that she never wanted anyone to die just because she was killed. I want them to pay with blood for what happened to her, but I don't want to let her down" Ivy confessed, violent sobs overtaking her petite frame, so violent Alfie struggled to contain her within his embrace.

"We'll figure this out, love. I promise you we'll figure this out together, my love. It's going to be alright" Alfie said, his voice sounding strangely soft and low, his beard and shirt catching the tears as they fell out of those wonderous eyes. "Forget I even said anything, right? Forget it. Fuck it, fuck it all and fuck them all. You're here, you're safe, we'll deal with it when you're ready, and if you decide you want to." He didn't know why, but he needed to make sure she understood she was safe, that he would make damn sure she would never cry again. "Hey. Hey, look at me. Ivy, look at me. I don't care about any of this. If you want to, say it, and we'll go away, far away from everything, to the sun, to the beach, to the mountains, to fucking Spain if you want to. You understand that, right? We'll get the fuck out of here the minute you say you want to go."

The brief speech, said with eyes locked on Ivy's, the honesty of it, made her smile. The thought of it was so tempting, the sun, the beach, maybe a small garden...

"Just you and me" Alfie whispered, more to himself than to her, allowing them both to dream of a day when his responsibilities and her business meant nothing, and they could simply run away together, leave London, leave England and the UK altogether.

"And Cyril" she added, making him laugh in return.

"Fuck, Cyril would come too, of course. That dog, I swear..." Alfie sighed, relieved to see Ivy wasn't crying anymore, and noticing her breathing a bit easier. His heart could, in turn, beat in synch again, knowing the object of his affection was once again calm and relaxed. Confessing to her wish to end her sister's killers seemed to do her some good, her expression a bit softer and the violence she kept locked away in her heart a little less caged.

"Thank you" Ivy said, her voice a bit huskier than usual, but almost back to her normal self.

"I love you. You understand that, right? I love you, more than anything in this fucking world. Even more than Cyril, more than everything and anything." Alfie replied, seeing her eyes widening at his words. One thing was saying it when they were in bed, beyond lost in the bliss of it all, another thing was saying it like that, point blank, honestly, with nothing to justify it or explain it other than complete and utter sincerity.

"How dare you say that when you're not fucking me" she replied with a chuckle, grabbing his chin and kissing him, her teeth catching his bottom lip as she pulled away. "I think I love you too, I'm just not sure if I love you more than I love Cyril. Did you know he comes to sleep with me when I'm..." but she couldn't finish her sentence, getting cut off suddenly by Alfie, who had picked her up and thrown her over his shoulder. "You bastard, your legs are gonna go to shit if you do that, put me down immediately!" she protested, to absolutely no avail.

"Ollie! Do me a favour and handle the shipment. Then go home and don't you fucking dare do so much as knocking on my fucking door, you hear that, mate?" Alfie shouted out the door, refusing to care about whatever his right-hand man saw. Luckily, he had his back turned, and was too busy to turn to his boss before replying with a short "yes, sir".

"Fuck you, Alfred, how fucking dare you, what if he had seen you logging me around as if I was a package, stop! Put me down! Alfred! No!" Ivy cried out, laughing so hard her stomach hurt. "It's gonna hurt later" she replied once she was put down on the floor of the bedroom behind the bookcase.

"You know what? I hope it does" Alfie replied, grabbing her by the waist and kissing her lips, taking her breath away. "And I hope to still fuck you like you deserve"


	11. Nicotine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> NSFW! TW!

Alfie wasn't usually a vocal man unless he was dealing with business. Then, he would talk peoples' ears off, which came in handy when the real information, the real questions, needed to be hidden behind a barrage of meaningless chatter and peculiar expressions. With Ivy, during their lunches and dinners, he had grown to speak a bit more, debating, asking, contesting, put at ease by the way she matched his humour, sarcasm, knowledge and curiosity. It wasn't that he was a shy man, simply that he was reserved, and felt as if he didn't really want to open up his game that much, give too much information or betray himself with his words.

But again, with Ivy, he was more open. From his opinions to politics, to his questions about chemicals and fluids, Alfie talked, and talked without holding back, without making himself out to be something and someone he was not. She was all types of perfection because of that, the way she spoke, the way she listened, the way she took her time explaining everything, with those mild gestures that highlighted the delicate bones of her hands. When she spoke, her lips became pinker, and a bit plumper too, as she had the habit of biting on the bottom one when she was thinking about how to explain a more complex chemical reaction or natural life cycle of some obscure plant. Ivy had always spoken eloquently, but when the subject matter interested her, it was even more obvious. She wasn't a case of someone who liked to listen to the sound of her own voice; she was a case of someone with so much knowledge that it would take lives upon lives to speak about it all. One of Alfie's biggest pleasures was to stand at her door, which she usually kept open, observing her as she read, bottom lip between her teeth, a heavy book on her lap, her hair up in a terrible bun, strands of hair on her face, on her neck, everywhere. She was always so focused she didn't even notice him standing there, and when she did, her heart always skipped a beat, not expecting to see someone there. But the way her features opened in a gorgeous smile when she saw him warmed his heart, made him smile in return. If there was something he needed from her, it would often be forgotten just because of that smile, the way it went up to her eyes, the way she always got up, marked the page carefully with a flower or a leaf, sat the book down on her desk and went up to him to kiss his lips, assured that his frame would hide them from being seen by a passerby.

Often times, it was moments like those that kept him going, Alfie thought to himself when he was alone, doing the books, signing shipment orders or something like that. In the past, when he was alone and mostly lonely, those were the things that brought him joy: looking after the business, seeing to every small detail of his enterprise, making sure his employees were well fed and in good health and spirits. Now, and although those same things still concerned him greatly, his true happiness was in finding out who he had become after the war; it was being more than a business owner, it was being human too. Of course the nightmares still came at times, and of course his bones still cracked and hurt, and his spine seldom sent him into the depths of excruciating pain he could not get used to. He still had every single mark of every single injury, every tattoo he had gotten in the army, every violent bone that made him survive and thrive. But now he had a life too, a life that didn't take away from anything, but added a million different things. Ivy Ivinson, the poison maker, had come into his home, into his business, and had forced him to see there was more to existence than books and money, and rivalries with anyone who wanted what he had, or what he intended to own. And in giving him that, she had taken nothing, absolutely nothing. In a world like Alfie's, where it was an eye for an eye, where every exchange had its pros and cons, being given something so precious, and asked for nothing in return was unfathomable. Granted, that it wasn't one-sided; in fact, it had been him the one to ask her for her love, to admit he didn't know what love was but that it was pretty obvious he felt it for her, with her permission, of course.

Ivy, in being given his heart, gave hers back, bearing her most precious possession to him: her knowledge, acquired through years of research and interest. Her heart was a similar matter; she too didn't know what love was, having only known appreciation for her parents, and desire for some men. With Alfie, it was different. She desired him, of course, his body, the way he kissed her, the way he moved; but also his company, his attention when she had something to say.

It was quite simple, truly; to love and be loved, freely, with nothing else in the way. None of them paid attention to social norms, or to the more strict rules of their religions. Sex outside of marriage was human, and so was the complete and utter disregard for most human life. Piety was not their goal in life, their goal was to achieve and know and feel and be, without taking orders from no one. They'd both had enough of that, and refused to bow down to anyone but themselves. 

And still, even with all of that, a most traditional thought started to arise in Alfie's head, stronger each day, present in his dreams and intruding on his daily life. One that he refused to say out loud, and even struggled to admit to himself, to allow himself to think it without immediately chastising himself for letting it happen. They'd been each other's for two months when it started, and now, approaching their third month of informal partnership, it was almost unbearable.


	12. Mistletoe

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> NSFW! TW!

His knees would protest sooner or later, but honestly, Alfie Solomons was man enough to handle a bit of pain, if that meant being man enough to cave into his own wishes. Sure, it was hard getting on his knees on a soft, pliable surface such as the one of a mattress, but then again Ivy didn't really see him struggling to achieve his purpose, laying as she was on her stomach, head buried in a pillow, her pale body trembling ever so slightly. 

She had said in the past that she was tougher than she looked, and it was absolutely true: she could stay up several nights in a rown, drank whisky like the best of them without going tipsy, and could carry her own boxes of supplies and product without the help of anyone. Likewise, she was able to withstand being bent over desks, over barrels, sat on kitchen counters, vanities and other pieces of furniture, without as much as seeming displaced. Furthermore, and even more extraordinary, was her ability to do most of the work when need arose, when Alfie simply could not achieve what one of them had come up with. Flexible and light as a feather, one would not assume she was as strong as she was, and as resistant too. Ivy had once explained that it mostly came down to physics, and the equilibrium of forces: if on knew what one was doing, most things were achievable by simple natural rules of gravity and balance.

It was seemed logical, right? Of course it did. So it was doable, it was possible, and he would be able to do it. Of course he was. As soon as she understood what he wanted to do, she would find a way to make it easier. Alfie sometimes worried about whether she would suffer any consequences from their more vigorous activities, but no, she didn't even have a bruise to show for it, or tired muscles.

"I'm not done with you" he said, eliciting a giggle from her.

"I know you're not. Come on then, I feel like I'm missing something. What the hell are you doing back there?" she asked, trying to turn her head. "You better not be doing anything that will hurt you, I will truly leave you here, and I know how hard you are right now"

"You know what, please stay quiet for a second, will you? I need to focus" Alfie replied, making her let out a defeated sigh. She had said what she wanted to say, but she knew damn well he would do as he pleased anyways, proceeding to numb the pain with some alcohol, or just bearing it.

"Fine..." Ivy let out, feeling his hands finally on her again, beneath her body, on her hipbones, pulling her up suddenly but softly, gently.

"Open these for me, pet" he asked, his voice almost a whisper. The sight was almost too good to be true, which was why he decided to focus on her back, which was gorgeous, but maybe not as explicit. Ivy obliged, her knees scooting to the sides, almost as if she instinctly knew how far apart they need to be for him to fit. Not being able to hold on any longer, she turned back to watch what was happening, at the same time he plunged into her, making her let out a sudden gasp.

"Am I hurting you?" Alfie asked, not moving an inch before she replied.

"No, no... please just... That's so incredible, please just..." she couldn't even form a coherent sentence, and it was honestly the hottest thing he had ever seen, heard or felt in his life.

"Just what? What you want me to do?"

"Please..." she whispered, fists grabbing onto the sheets so hard her knuckles were white, her head now buried in the pillow, her chest pressing against the mattress.

"Not a mind reader, but I'll give it a shot" Alfie stated, moving into her ever so slightly. "Like that?" the only reply he got was another gasp, followed by something very akin to the purring of a cat. He moved again, and now she did sound like a feline, before another thrust simply reduced her to silence. Again and again, the only sound Alfie could hear her make were gasps, accompanied by a high-pitched, short scream he had never heard before. 

Needless to say, it took them both less than two minutes to be completely and utterly drained. With his usual difficulty, Alfie pulled out of her, and everything but collapsed by her side, wondering why it was she always laughed when they were done. But of course, there was something else, made entirely too obvious by the state of not only the mattress, but mainly of Ivy's elegant thighs.

"There is something I need to ask you" he ended up saying, when his breathing was back to normal.

"Huh?" Ivy replied, through the peacefulness of her expression. They hardly ever spoke after sex, it was something akin to an unspoken rule, both of them too tired to do anything but sleep.

"I know you know this, but I never... I always finish inside you, and maybe I shouldn't, but fuck..." Alfie admitted, looking at Ivy with such concern in his eyes she had to smile. It truly was so like him, the care, the blushed cheeks that came with touching that subject. "I should've asked you about this way before, but I'm sure you'd tell me if..."

"Hey. It's so sweet that you're asking, but I would never rely on a man being able to pull out in time. So, you don't need to worry, I am not going to have your child" Ivy laughed, before noticing the look on Alfie's face. He looked almost hurt, as if she had insulted him. "No, I don't mean you aren't able to get me pregnant, I meant that I know how to prevent pregnancy..."

"That's not what I mean, what I mean is that I want to have a child with you, and that I want you to stop doing whatever it is that you're doing" Alfie stated, before he was even able to give it a second thought.

"Are you being serious right now?" Ivy asked, brow furrowed.

"I love you, I want to be with you, and I want to have a baby with you. Of course none of that will happen if you don't agree, I would never force you to carry my child, but fuck, I want you to. I never did before, but I do now." he replied, kissing her lips, and feeling her kissing him back. "And it's like you said, we don't even know if I can actually do it. But I can't stop thinking about how beautiful you'd look with a baby inside you, and how amazing it would be to have a child with the woman I love."

"Let's agree on something then: let's give ourselves three more months, just the two of us. Then, I'll stop taking the remedy and we'll try for a little one. How does that sound?" Ivy said, a hint of glimmer in her eyes.

Alfie couldn't do much more than nod, going back to her lips, kissing her hard and desperately, as his eyes burned with water. A baby, his baby, their baby, a little one, one more reason to be happy, one more reason to live...

One more reason to go away, and never look back.


	13. Belladona

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> NSFW TW!!

Every single day of those three months was spent in a homey kind of normal, with routines, with work, with calm. Or at least as much calm as someone in that line of work could have. Their conversations were the only thing that changed. 

"Poison Ivy will probably cause rashes that look like something more serious"

"And I'll start limping a bit more" Alfie replied, making Ivy raise an eyebrow. "Fine, maybe not. I'm just trying to help. It needs to be believable" 

"I know, and it will be" she stated, getting up from her chair and wrapping her arms around Alfie, her chin on his shoulder. "I truly cannot wait for us to go. Me, and you, the sun... It'll be amazing"

"Are you sure about this? Won't you miss London? Your family?" 

"I will, but I'll have you, and our children, god willing" Ivy said, eliciting a sigh from Alfie. The simple thought of Ivy, wearing a summery dress, a child by the hand and another growing inside her, safe, warm, healthy, was everything his heart could ever want. If everything went well, if there were no hiccups, everyone in London would think they were dead, Ivy's family being the exception, Ollie would take over the business, and they would be in Spain within a week, in the villa Alfie had gotten them near Barcelona, on the beach. 

"And what if there..."

"Alfred. Stop. I'm sure about this. I want this and I will not change my mind. I want to go to Spain with you, and I don't care that we're not married, I don't care if it's too warm, I don't care if we can't have children after all. It's me and you, like you said" Ivy reaffirmed, going to sit on his lap, facing him directly. "Babies or no babies, London or Barcelona, this office or your bedroom over there. Me and you"

"You trying to seduce me, girl?" Alfie asked, smirking slightly before kissing Ivy on the lips. His hand laid on her knee, and then slid up to her thigh, the metallic cold of his rings trailing a path on her skin that made it erupt into goosebumps. "You know I'm one of the worst men to run away with, right? I've killed people with these hands" he added, his hand going further up her leg, reaching the place that never failed to make her gasp. 

"I believe you, but the way I see it... oh, fuck... that makes you a good person to run away with. To protect me" Ivy replied, feeling one of his girthy fingers inside her, moving slowly, his thumb pressing lightly, drawing small circles around her. 

"You don't need me to protect you. But fuck, I'm ready to swear you almost need me to make you bite your lip like that" he affirmed, seeing the way she moved her hips, trying to get him to go faster, deeper, harder. "You wanna say it? Say it" his hand stopped, causing Ivy to frown.

"I need you to make you bite my lip" she said, exhaling in relief when he added a second finger and kept on moving, in and out, faster as promised. 

Insane. It was insane. The way the blood on is hands acted like an aphrodisiac. Sure as hell she had been raised better, she went to Sunday church. Her parents had wanted better for her than to be sitting on the lap of a gangster, admitting to his face she had never been able to feel anything like that, no other man from her long list of lovers had shown her the depths of depravity she revelled in. If Ivy was honest with God, if she admitted to that side of her, the side of her soul that had dragged both her and Alfie to the most basic denomination of humanity, they'd both be lost. 

"Good girl" Alfie simply said, giving her exactly what she wanted until there were tears streaming down her face, coming from her closed eyes, her nails digging into his arms, as she held on for dear life. A billion stars exploded behind her lids, her back arching, her toes curling. But it wasn't long before she regained control of herself, and when she did, a mischievous thought came over her. 

Her usual stealth came in handy, granting her the ability to move her body around, straddling Alfie's lap, her hands taking his wrists and pinning them to her own chest. One of her knees then slid into position over his crotch, making him gasp; if she pressed a bit more it would hurt like a bitch. Even more surprising was the way one of her small hands reached for his neck, her fingers pressing on either side, in a specific pressure point that made sure he could breathe, but was enough to make his blood flow faster. 

"That was the wrong thing to say, mr. Solomons. I remember us agreeing that I'm a very bad, naughty, mischievous poison maker, who makes the things you kill others with. So, in a way..." Ivy started, seeing the way he couldn't even get himself to take a deep breath, his pupils blown. "I'm just as bad a company"

Savage. That's how she made him feel. An animal, nothing but a mess of adrenaline and pure desire. She was so right, it was so true, she was bad, tainted, dirty, godless, unusual and a sinner. But so was he, and finding someone who matched his track record was difficult, even in the worst alleyways of London. The difference was that she looked like a saint, moved like an angel, and had a body worthy of devotion. Her wits were the stuff of legend, her voice a choir of cherubs, and his love for her was epic. Adam and Eve, Satan and Lilith, the only ones who compared were hellish love stories made in the pits of hell. But fuck, it felt so good. I am the devil, Alfie thought to himself, and she has a throne by my side.

"Fucking hell, love" he was barely able to say, her mouth on his neck, just above where her fingers pressed. She had let go of his hands, simpy because she was busy untying his pants and grabbing his manhood, without even doing as much as look down. 

"And maybe you're the one who should feel bad, a good Jewish boy, so devout, who contributes so much to his community..." Ivy stated, her eyes still fixed on his, almost as if she was daring him to look away, as her hand worked up a pace he simply could not, and would not, be able to resist. "And look at you now, at the mercy of a killer. Are you gonna come for me, my love? Even knowing all of that?"

Truly, all Alfie could manage was a weak whimper, as he tried his best not to let his eyes close. He wanted to see her, the way her hand moved, the way her ink lips moved when she spoke... but damn, it was difficult, he was so hard he felt like he was going to burst at any second. 

"You wanna say it? Say it" Ivy asked, lips on his ear, steadying her pace, feeling him throb. 

"I'm gonna come for you, especially because of all that" Alfie whispered, grabbing her thighs as he came, as if to make sure she wasn't going anywhere. 

That night, when they laid in bed, side by side, in the comfortable silence of their bond, nothing really mattered: moving to another country, trying to start a family, leaving everything behind. What did matter was that they loved each other unconditionally, pliable to no threat, and unbothered by the outside world. And when the three months were up, marking their half year of sleepless nights and dizzying pleasure, Ivy maintained her promise, and stopped taking her usual contraceptives. At the same time, Alfie sent Ollie to his mother's house, asking him to retrieve the only thing of any sentimental value he had left in the old abandoned house. 


	14. Tetradotoxin

The rings were bought under strict vigilance from at least a dozen men, who had not, and would not ask what they were doing at a jeweler's workshop at 2 a.m. The man himself had worked tirelessly for two days and two nights to make the bands, to fit their future wearers perfectly. The instructions were clear: two bands, pure gold, with nothing on them: no inscription, no diamond, no nothing. One of them, the smaller one, would be part of a set, combined with another ring, composed of a diamond halo and a ruby-stone center, and thus should match strictly and elegantly.

Likewise, the rabi and the priest were made to leave their beds in the middle of the night, as well as a notary and a dress maker. A church wasn't an option, as none were under the strict orders of the Solomon enterprise; because of that, the two holy men and the law student were sent to a sinagogue, the same one where Alfie's parents had married, decades ago.

The guests were sparse, but enthused: a very nervous Ollie, his wife, and William and Mariette Ivinson, allowed to be present as a gesture of trust and faith. Mariette, a Frenchwoman made British by marriage, sniffed into a handkerchief, as her daughter, her only surviving daughter, stood at the altar, in her pure white dress, a simple birdcage veil, and a smile the size of oceans. As for the groom, a man they had never seen before and who seemed by all accounts some random Jewish man Ivy had found god knows where, he simply stood there, his face without expression, unable to even breathe correctly, shocked and overwhelmed by what was happening. 

Because that was it, wasn't it? If Alfie had ever doubted Ivy's commitment, love, faithfulness, or seriousness, this was the moment to end all doubts. She was right there, tears in her eyes, at 4 in the morning, marrying him in a cerimony conducted by a rabi and a priest, with guns pointed at them so they wouldn't step out of line, and so that they made sure the marriage stayed between those present. Not only that, but she was wearing makeup, a white dress, she had a veil on, and his mother's engagement ring on her finger. They'd agreed on getting it done in the simplest of ways, but the small gesture of wearing a white dress to their wedding was the detail that broke Alfie, to the point he couldn't even cry, or breathe, or think. His, she was his, all his, her heart, body and soul were his. It was impossible to deny it, and not even a man as broken as Alfie Solomons could try and do it.

The rings were exchanged, words were said and repeated, but none more important than the ones said by the priest, then the rabi, then the notary: you are now pronounced husband and wife; sir, you may kiss your bride.

And by all means, Alfie kissed her, his bride (the strangest word he had ever heard, but that seemed to suit Ivy perfectly), his wife, his life, his light and his demise. She kissed back, her husband, her savior and love.

"If you would just sign your name here... sir, and then the lady" the notary said, handing Alfie a pen. He signed, making an effort to keep his hand from shaking. Damn it, he hadn't been nervous to that extent before; it was done, they'd done it, they were married, what the hell was there to be nervous about? What he failed to consider was that it was relief making his muscles tremble, relief and happiness, not anxiousness. Once his name was signed, he meant to move, to let Ivy have her space to sign her name, but for some reason she took his hand and made him stand there while she signed.

_Ivy Désirée Ivinson-Solomons_

They both knew it couldn't be said out loud, they could never use that name ever again, Ivy would be Ivy Ivinson until the moment her death was announced in the papers; but it meant it all, it meant everything, that it was her real name. Somewhere, Alfie's parents were smiling, knowing he had given such an angel their last name...

"I know we agreed on not doing it, but I want to. So I can have the same last name as you and our children" Ivy whispered, and that was what did it; the tears she had been holding back, and the ones Alfie didn't know how to muster, fell down their cheeks, through incredulous smiles and breathless mouths.

"I love you"

"And I love you"

And fuck, wasn't it all there was, a love big enough to move mountains and drench oceans? Where a simple word, a simple and unremarkable name moved the harshest men to tears?


	15. Nerve Gas

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I know this makes it look like we're all done, but we're not, so please stay tuned!!  
> Thanks a million for getting this far, y'all rock  
> lots of love!

The waves crashed in the distance, and as they did, their sounds matched the rhythm of her breathing. They'd been in Tarragona for the better part of a year, and each day Ivy had looked out into the ocean, and counted the stars that appeared in the sky, one by one, little by little. In that land, one hour ahead of their native London, everything smelled nice, the sea never too far, not even when they went into town for the weekly market. It was a bountiful land, that gave the sweetest oranges and generous watermelons. Ivy had never seen so many vegetables and fruit, and her palate had to adjust to so many new flavours. 

As for business, she had found her work in a pharmacy, hand-making remedies and seeing clients. Alfie busied himself in their small garden, and with letters and telegrams from their homeland. The business what still his, deep down always would be, but Spain was simply safer, better, sunnier and lovelier. It was possible, and they had done such a remarkable job at getting used to the new land. Not even Spanish posed an issue now, and the villagers seemed to accept the two foreigners and took them in, often enquiring when they were planning on starting a family, and asking Ivy to let them know if her man was ever cruel or violent toward her. Even if she always assured them she was fine, the women kept saying it, giving Alfie threatening looks, on account of the size and weight different of the two of them.

"No, no, he's as gentle as can be, don't worry" Ivy said time and time again in Spanish, her accent almost gone. Her husband would simply laugh, tip his hat when he bothered to wear one, and scoot Ivy closer to him, as they walked on the boardwalk side by side. Spain was free, Spain was less bothered with rules and with the uptight way of life that was fashionable all over Europe. Maybe it was because they were in a small town, where people knew them and had gotten used to the outwardness of their affection; or maybe they had been used to hiding themselves within four walls in London.

As for the second part of the plan, it was proving to be a bit more difficult. It wasn't for lack of trying; having a home to themselves, with no one else threatening to come in at any moment, made for a very generous playground, and Alfie had found himself unable to do as much as control himself: whenever Ivy entered the room, he got hard, and she knew it. They'd done it all over, on all areas, surfaces, nooks and cranies, Ivy splayed on top of every piece of furniture.

But still, almost a year later, no baby. And each time Ivy got her period, Alfie fell deeper and deeper into sadness. She made him so happy, she made him the happiest man in the world; she was the one making him come time after time, the one kissing him and holding him and making him almost cry due to so much pleasure. In return, he'd asked her for a child, and she had asked him the same in return. It was tragic, and he knew it was his fault, it was him, she was perfect, any other man would've given her a child in the blink of an eye. Alfie knew it deep down: he was broken, he was absolutely broken, sterile, and a sad excuse for a husband for such an extraordinary woman. Ivy had told him that they just had to keep trying, that maybe the contraceptives she'd taken for so long took their time to go away and allow her to get pregnant. She had even gone as far as saying maybe it was her womb that wasn't working properly. But it wasn't, he knew it wasn't.

Every night, when they laid in bed, often spent from their efforts, he held on to her, an tried his hardest not to let his palm slide to her stomach, tried not to give himself the hope of ever fathering a child. But fuck, it was difficult, it was so difficult... The only thing that was harder than not fueling hope was to see the way Ivy was around the neighbourhood children; Alfie had never seen something more perfect. 

"You alright?" Ivy heard him ask, before feeling his arms wrapping around her, warming her body, and shielding her from the night air, his chest against her back, allowing her to drop her head onto his shoulder.

"Yeah. Never better, actually" Ivy smiled, revelling on the kisses her husband laid on her neck, and in the way his fingers pushed aside her hair.

"Why's that?"

In the moment, Ivy didn't know what to say, or how to say it. In the end, when it came to it, the easiest way to say anything was to show. Taking Alfie's hands carefully, she slid them down from her waist to her lower stomach, hoping he'd understand what she was trying to say, hoping it was bigger than words.

The rush of thoughts that went through Alfie's head was insane: from confusion, to doubt, to absolute and overwhelming happiness, the realization dawned upon him of what Ivy was trying to tell him, the reason for her being better than ever.

"You... Are you..." Alfie stuttered, as Ivy turned to him and smiled up at him, placing her hands on his cheeks and pulling him down to kiss him, though he was still in complete and utter disbelief.

"Pregnant? Yeah" she assured, smiling even wider as she saw the involuntary tears forming in his eyes. The mention of that word was too much for Alfie, who dropped to his knees, not caring about the pain, and embraced Ivy with all the strength he could muster.


	16. Rosary Pea

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mention of death and suicide TW

Ivy's father's death had apparently been quite sudden, and quite painless as well: a heart attack in his sleep had made him cold by the next morning, when his doting wife woke up for the second worst day of her life. Mariette Ivinson had never been a strong woman, or a very sharp one. She had one, and only one, extraordinary quality: her love for her husband, and for her two beautiful, educated, lovely daughters. Without them, she truly was nothing, she was just the shell for a soul that no longer had a purpose in the world she lived in.

The maid, who went to their small apartment to clean every week, found them both in their bedroom: mr. Ivinson laying in bed, still positioned as if he was sleeping; his wife, the French mrs. Ivinson, hung from the ceiling beams, her tongue and eyes bulging out of her head, her neck almost severed by the thick rope she'd used. The police were called, and so were doctors, who could do nothing for the elderly couple. The detectives found no evidence of foul play, and ruled Mariette's death a suicide by hanging, probably after discovering her husband's dead body. 

Apparently, the old man and woman had no one: their first daughter, Rosary, had been killed a few years back, whereas their youngest, Ivy had died about a year and a half ago, her body having been discovered in the Thames, probably after a night out drinking. There was no one to inform, no one to tell. But even in a suicide case, words travelled, and eventually found their way to someone who knew these news would interest his boss and his boss' wife. 

Ollie's hands could not work faster: dialing the Spanish number was hard enough for him, but adding the level of horror and stress he was under, it was tenfold. He didn't know how to say it, he didn't know how to convey the information; he thought of hesitating, to prevent upsetting mrs. Solomons, who was expecting her very desired first child. What if there were complications, and he was to blame? But no, it had to be said, it was better to just say something...

"Hello?"

"Master Solomons, sir, it's Oliver, sir. Sir, I have some terrible news regarding mrs. Solomons, and I don't know what to do" Ollie decided to say, happy that it had been his boss to pick up the phone. Who better to decide whether or not to pass the information on than the lady's own husband?

"What do you mean, lad? And how many times have I told you not to use that name on the phone?"

"I'm sorry sir, but... the lady Ivy's father and mother were found dead, sir. He by natural causes, her by suicide" Ollie stated, and he could swear he heard his master's breath stopping, even through the phone. 

"Fuck" was all Alfie managed to say, thankful Ivy was away, in their garden, picking up some basil to do some sort of tart she had gotten the recipe for from the neighbour. 

"I know, sir, I agree"

"Who else knows?" 

"No one, sir, I got the information from a friend who works for the police, and who said it by mere coincidence. I recognised the last name, and sure enough, it was them. Sir, the lady will..."

"The lady will be fucking devastated" Alfie agreed, sitting down on a nearby chair, leg twitching. "Fuck, fuck, fuck" 

"Yes, sir. What shall I do?"

"Send someone to find out when the funeral is. And..."

"Sir, I'm afraid there won't be a funeral. They had no relatives other than the lady, and since she is supposed to be dead, the lady's parents received a priest's blessing and were cremated" Ollie said, knowing damn well what would follow, and hating himself for being the one to tell his master that. Antecipating the ask, he'd gone ahead and discovered where they'd been buried, if they'd been buried at all, and had found the disturbing information that the lady's parents' final resting place had been a crematorium. 

"I can't tell her that" Alfie replied, after listening with all his attention to what Ollie had to say. Ivy was having a relatively easy pregnancy, and had only thrown up once, but he sure as hell wasn't about to give her the worst news of her life, risking her health, and that of the baby. "Here's what you'll do: I can't keep this from my wife, she has the right to know; what I need you to do is find the best plot of land in Highgate cemetery, buy it, and order everything Christians put on their people's graves. I don't care how it looks, I don't care about any of that, as long as my wife has somewhere to go to visit her family. Make sure her sister is moved there as well, and do it your fucking self to make sure the lass is taken care of with respect. You got it?" 

"Yes, sir. I'll get right on it, sir"

* * *

"My love, I need to tell you something, alright?" Alfie called out to Ivy from their backdoor, which overlooked their small garden. She looked so beautiful, and so angelical, with her simple dress, a flower in her hair, and holding a small basket full of vegetables and leaves. But, of course, there was the bump, now clearly visible under her clothes, providing a good place for her to lay her left hand. The small one had recently started to kick, and with such strength Ivy couldn't sleep. 

"Sure. You alright? You look a bit pale, Alfred, what happened?" she asked, taking her things and entering the home. 

"Here, have a seat." Alfie suggested, taking her by the hand and leading her to their living room, where she could sit in a good armchair, and prop her feet up. "I'm gonna need you to stay strong, right? I need you to... to remember I love you, and I need you, and our child does too" 

"Of course, but why..."

"Ollie called, and... he found out your parents passed. Last week. He sends his condolences"

From all the words in the world, those were the ones Ivy wasn't expecting. Suddenly, her ideal life became dark, and all her thoughts were halted, leaving her mind blank. Her parents passed, Her parents were dead. She was alone. Her whole family had died: her sister, her loving mother and devoted father... 

"I am so sorry, love. So, so sorry" she vaguely heard her husband saying, but she couldn't breathe, she couldn't see, all she could feel was her heart pounding against her ribs, and her child kicking, kicking away at her insides with no mercy. 

"Wh... why? How?" Ivy eventually gathered the strength to say, her fists clenched so hard her nails dug into her palms, drawing blood. 

"Police said your father died of a heart attack, and your mother couldn't take it when she found him, and..." Alfie started, but couldn't bring himself to complete the sentence. It was horrible,. tragic, and what made it even more so was that he knew that kind of love; he knew he too wowuldn't be able to live if he found Ivy dead. He didn't even know how those two people kept living after losing their daughter Rosary, but maybe having Ivy numbed the pain, gave them something to carry on for. 

"Where are they now? Are they together?" Ivy asked, her voice a mere whisper, her face transfigured and somehow paralysed entirely by pain and grief. 

"Yes, I had Ollie take care of everything. They'll be in Highgate, with your sister" 

"Thank you. Thank you, truly" Ivy replied, tears finally falling to her cheeks. "They're together, they're with Rosary and with the Lord now, they can rest together"

"Exactly. Do you need anything? A bit of water, maybe tea?"

"No, no, thank you." she said, with a bit more strength. Her mind was starting to make sense of it: her mother couldn't live without her father, and both hadn't really lived since Rosary's death. It made sense that they had joined the Lord, that they'd been saved and were looking down upon their only grandchild, protecting the baby as guardian angels. As for herself, Ivy knew she coudn't give in, she had to be strong, and stay strong, because she too had people to protect and look after. The grief was threatening to swallow her whole, but she couldn't let it. She had to do what she had done after Rosary's passing: fight with every last ounce of courage she had to stay alive for those who depended on her, and who loved her. It had been her parents, and now, it was her husband and child. 

"What can I do to make it better?" Alfie asked, grabbing both her hands in his, feeling how cold she had gotten all of a sudden. 

"I want to go to Highgate"


	17. Carbon Monoxide

Ivy was a rational woman, she was smart and reasonable, even while she was growing a cild inside her womb. She didn't really have cravings, and she didn't feel on the verge of tears constantly. The only thing that was less than ideal was the weight of her belly, that grew and grew each day, until she could barely walk anywhere. It was then that the doctor who had been accompanying her ordered bed rest, for the last couple of weeks before she was due to give birth. The baby kept on pushing and shoving, the feet clearly visible through the taut skin of her bump. 

"I want to meet this baby so badly, it's all I can think about" Ivy stated with a deep sigh, her back against the headboard, her hands resting on her belly. 

"That makes two of us. You're incredible, I can't believe there's a full human inside you" Alfie replied, his right hand joining hers atop the bump. He loved feeling the way the baby moved, which made it hard to concentrate on anything else. His wife, his beloved and perfect wife, carrying a much antecipated baby grabbed all of his attention. Ollie still sent letters and telegrams, but they were more sparse now than ever before, on account of the boss's condition as a soon to be first time father. Ollie had been there,he knew what it was like, and business definetly made everything take a backseat. The nerves, the antecipation, everything, became much more important than all the money in the world. 

"Me either. But by the looks of it, it's not only a full human, it's a pretty big and healthy one at that" Ivy stated, sighing again, smiling at her husband as she toyed with the wedding band on his finger. In Spain, he had ditched the other rings he used, only keeping that one, the simple gold band they'd exchanged during their lowkey wedding. She too forwent other jewelery in favour of her wedding set. The ruby, Alfie had told her, was meant to help with childbirth, and Ivy, though her faith was different, diddn't part with her engagement ring. 

"That's all we could really ask for, innit? A boy or girl, you reckon?" 

"Hm. It's a good question. The neighbours were asking me the same thing yesterday, and I truly didn't have an answer. They said that it looked like a girly bump to them, but I dunno how they came to that conclusion" Ivy laughed, feeling her child, boy or girl, kicking her skin as vigorously as ever. 

* * *

The woman had been pretty clear: husbands and other men were useless during labour. They got in the way, were overly concerned, or wanted to help but didn't have the skills to do so. But this husband was slightly different, and would not take the first excuse to run for the hills, only coming back when the child was out, clean and cute. This Englishman was positively panicked, and would not leave his wife's side, not even to eat or drink water. He knew how to get out of the way, but he also wanted to be there, for her, for his suffering wife. 

It was only a matter of time before the baby was out, as the contractions the poor girl was experiencing were not even two minutes apart. Her name was strange, Ivy, and she spoke better Spanish than her husband. Manuela, the midwife, appreciated how hard she was trying not to be a bother, but it was inevitable for her to squirm, to cry, and to clench her fists around her husband's hands. 

"Come on, come on..." Manu would say, in Spanish, whenever a contraction came and Ivy needed to push with all her strength. The pain was agonizing, and Ivy too didn't want to have to go through it any longer. The only thing tying her to reality was Alfie, his hands under hers, his eyes focused on her, hoping and praying she would be ok. Ivy heard him praying under his breath, muttering words she didn't know, but that combined well with her own hail marys. 

The baby made its first appearance about twenty full hours after the first signs of childbirth. The head came first, which was amazing news, and soon after their small human entered the world, screaming so loud the walls almost shook. 

"A girl! A girl!" Manu announced, picking up the baby and enveloping her in a blanket, before placing her on her eager mother's chest. 

* * *

"She's perfect" Ivy said, sitting in front of the fire with her newborn baby, nursing from her breast peacefully. It was a beautiful sight, one that Alfie couldn't take his eyes off of. The tiny one truly was perfect, healthy, rosy and with the most prodigious blue eyes. But the hair was his, as was her mouth. The rest was Ivy, of course it was, that extraordinary beauty that brought him to his knees, that made a gangster into a man that cried when he held his daughter. 

Daughter. 

The best world in the world, next to wife. 

"She is. I don't know how I'll ever be able to thank you enough for her" Alfie replied, reaching for Ivy's hand and taking it, feeling it warm, soft. 

"It was nothing. And it was a team effort" she replied, making them both laugh. "Childbirth isn't fun, but it was so worth it. You were amazing, I don't think I'd be able to do it without you by my side"

"Where else would I be?" Alfie retorted, seeing how happy the baby looked, her eyes focused either on her mother's face, or on his own, as if she was trying to commit them to memory. "Now that we know baby is a girl, do we still agree with the name we picked?"

"I do, do you?"

"Absolutely"

Talia Rosary Ivinson-Solomons was born in the Spanish winter, to adoring and loving parents who would give her an empire when she was old enough to rule over one. 


	18. Bleach

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> TW for grief and angst!!

Talia was a full two months-old when the thought of returning to Britain dominated the mind of her mother. She wanted to visit her family, she wanted to see their graves. It had been sensible to wait, to stay in Spain until the baby was born; but now the little one had arrived, and there were no more excuses for the Solomons to delay their trip. Or should she say her trip?

"Please stay here with Talia, I'll go by myself. I don't want to endanger you, or her. And you know very well everyone in London knows exactly who you are, and what you do. I am way less conspicuous. I just want to see my family, just want to make sure they're in a good place, place some flowers at their grave. Send as many bodyguards with me as you'd like, but please stay here with Talia. Please. I am begging you, Alfred. Please"

"How would I ever feel comfortable with letting you go back to fucking England without me? Do you have any idea what you're asking me? Letting my wife, the mother of my child, go to another country, by herself? To London nonetheless, crawling with people who would do anything to get revenge on me? Ivy, I would be sick with worry every second you were away" Alfie replied, his voice sounding like that of a dying man. He truly could not stand letting Ivy go, couldn't stand risking the small family they'd built. It was exactly like he had said in the past: he too would kill himself if anything happened to Ivy or Talia, just like his wife's mother had done. "I need you, Talia needs you. I am very sorry for your parents, and for your sister too, no one is more sorry than me. But fuck. Fuck, Ivy. I can't let you go. I can't risk someone getting to you. And I am sorry, I know it is my fault that you can't go to their graves without being put in danger. I only ask that you forgive me for that, and to please stay here. Ollie is looking after them as best as he can, there are fresh flowers there every day. I promise you, my love. I promise you they won't be abandoned"

"Alfie..."

"Please"

Ivy looked outside the window, to the sun that was now setting. It was a scenery not that different from when she had tod her husband they were expecting, after an agonizing year of trying, to no avail. And now Talia had arrived, she was as healthy as can be, and had her father's hair, his mouth, even his cheeks. She was perfect, and so was he. She'd known Alfie as her friend, her lover, her husband, her saviour, and her rock. He was also a businessman, a scholar, a pillar of his community, a gangster and a veteran. But damn... as alluring as all of that was, Alfie as a father was by far the best version of him. Talia looked so small compared to him, but she always looked so calm and peaceful, rarely making it five minutes without falling asleep. 

She understood where he was coming from. They had agreed to leave for Spain, and never go back to England. They'd traded in their hometown for a peaceful life, for the possibility of raising their children away from the fear and the danger Camden Town represented, without always looking over their shoulder for Peaky Blinders, Italians, low-life gangsters trying to make a name for themselves. All in all, her faith did say that those who died, those who lived righteous lives, would ascend and be with the Lord, their mortal bodies mere shells for souls that belonged to God. 

All of that was valid, and made sense. So why was Ivy's brain so hyperfocused on that grave, on that cemetery, on those buried corpses?

"My mind agrees with you. But my heart wants to be there with them" Ivy ended up sighing, biting the inside of her cheek and her lower lip, scared of the tears that she could feel burning her eyes. She wouldn't cry, she wasn't going to cry, she refused to cry; it was such selfishness to cry when she had everything she asked for, everything she prayed for. It was hypocrisy, this inability to let go of her past life, of accepting that she no longer belonged in England, that she no longer had her parents and her sister, that they were with her in spirit. 

"I know. I understand, same thing happened with my parents. When my mom died, I refused to let the undertaker take her body, just clinged to her as if I could bring her back to life on my own. But I couldn't, innit? We can't. Their bodies are just that, bodies. Sure as hell they're with us right now" Alfie stated, voicing the memory he'd kept hidden all those years. The mere act of remembering his mother, laying in her hospital bed, cold and still as a marble statue was one he'd done his best to bury deep inside his mind, to avoid forever. But Ivy knew every corner of him, every bit, every confession, every dirty deed, every kill, every word he had ever uttered, every thought, every desire, every need and every want. And now she knew that too, and now she was going through it too. It was devastating, to see another being experience what he had experienced. To see her let go of the walls she'd put up to protect her unborn daughter. Ivy hadn't allowed herself to experience grief and sadness, to avoid harming the child she bore in her womb. But she had to, she had to experience it all, walk the path of coping with the loss of her family. 

"I know I can't go. I know that. I know you're right, I can't risk my life for a grave. I need to come to terms with their deaths on my own, and seeing a slab of stone isn't going to make it easier" Ivy admitted, letting out all the air in her lungs. "How did you do it? How did you get over losing your parents?"

"To tell you the truth, I never really did. Fuck, I guess I just tried to forget they ever existed, tried to make a name for myself, and it took up so much time and effort I ended up... you know, Forgetting to think about them, and forgetting to mourn. But when you came along, I found myself thinking about how much they'd adore you, and it was as if loving you brought them back into my life. They'd be proud of me, and they'd spoil the baby rotten" Alfie laughed, a truly blessed sound that made Ivy a little less sad, a little less obsessed. The look in his eyes was one she rarely ever saw, it was sweet, and nostalgic, it was the sign of good memories, as oposed to the bad ones that often times woke him up in the middle of the night. 

"I bet. Same with my parents, they would love her so much. And my sister too. She'd probably have children of her own, who'd love to come here in the summer to go to the beach" Ivy allowed herself to say, a wave of warmth running over her, washing over her being, confirming her conjecture. 

However hard it was to have that conversation, the results were good: Ivy chose rationality over sadness, and understood that her family didn't lie six feet under the ground, in a grave at Highgate cemetery. At the same time, Alfie had an idea forming in his mind, and it was executed in less than a week: an elegant group of palm-sized sculptures, representing each member of their family. mr. and mrs. Ivinson, Rosary, mr. and mrs. Solomons, Alfie himself, Ivy, and little Talia, held by her mother. They were simple, stilized, but each of them bore some resemblance to their human counterparts. Upon seeing it, Ivy had cried, cried for hours, of happiness and longing, of grief and hope. The little figurines were placed in their living room, watching over their fireplace, making sure their living loved ones were safe. 

"I love them. Thank you. Thank you so much" Ivy had ended up saying, as her sobs finally died down a little. 

"Of course. Now we don't need to go anywhere to visit them. They're always here with us" Alfie replied, kissing his wife on the lips, as both of them looked over the small porcelain family. Being each other's was easy, being Talia's easier still; but being part of that family was the easiest task of all. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Y'all this is longer than my masters thesis lmao thanks so much for reading


End file.
